Cruel Desires
by mangoseed
Summary: Cloud can feel his body being manipulated by a satanic foe. He stares in cold disbelief as his body moves at the whim of another, afflicting both himself and those he loves. CloudTifa. Rated M for a reason!
1. Stained Fingers

**Cruel Desires**

**Chapter 1: Stained Fingers**

The icy chillness is pungent in the cold breeze. Its arctic wind presses firmly against my skin while assaulting me with a barrage of frozen rain. Tinges of bitter frost slit my throat with every breath, and frozen scars burn into my lungs. This place feels forbidden, as though my presence is unwanted. _Why am I here?_ Every graze against my skin is another strike to banish me from these lands. But I cannot pull away.

Standing in the arctic, I feel empty and weak, yet an overwhelming surge of power rushes through my body. The moonlight glow radiates heavily upon the ground and I can feel the solid earth quiver at my touch. I step forward with my hair wavering briskly in the winds. I need to be here. I crave the very essence of this land. The echoes of moaning stone resonate in the distance as an attempt to shove me away.

I step closer as a torrent of ice ravages my skin. But it taunts me. I crave for this purpose. I yearn for it. _What am I searching for? _Pushing further, every step becomes more difficult. My feet sink into the grounds; they latch onto my legs, desperately trying to hold me in place. The cold barrier grows more forceful, thrusting me backwards.

There. My treasure lay only a few feet away. I can sense my hunger rising. My undeniable thirst yearns to be quenched. My lustful desire razes my soul. I need it now I can feel my body lunging forward, and I sprint quickly with unholy speed. The icy winds slash across my face, marking trails of a bloody warning. The winds rush past me, murmuring crude remarks regarding my forbidden passion. These are haunting ideals, yet I seem to embrace them. I want them. I revel in the terror they possess.

Suddenly, the world is still, and I stop. My rapid dash comes to an abrupt halt before a large fissure torn into the earth. My craving deepens, and I can feel the corner of my lips curl into a snake-like grin. But a sharp realization quickly clashes into my mind. That vile smirk is _not mine_.The understanding of why I am here suddenly dawns on me. _No, it can't be. _My hidden intent is that of a killer. A murderer. A monster. _That isn't who I am. _I feel myself screaming, yet my lips do not move.

I run my fingers through my hair whose silken texture is unlike my glossy spikes. My hand reaches across my waist and unsheathes a grandiose sword. Its silver lining gleams in the darkness. Its blade is unmatched in length. _Masamune._I try to pull away, to leave this vile place. But my body is not at my command. _It's his._I feel myself trembling violently at the thought of what is soon to come. The memories are painful. The burden is too great. _I can't move. _I try to run. I try to get away. But my body pushes forward and willingly falls into the dark hole.

_I'm falling. _The darkness engulfs my body like a marauder's abyss. I feel myself being swallowed, conquered, destroyed I try to kick out and escape this lurid nightmare. But the harder I try, the more meaningless are my futile attempts._ Save her. Save us. _My body is still moving with a soft ease. In an elegant motion, my sword is brought up above my head. _I will strike soon. _

Her image grows closer as I see her kneeling form praying virtuously to the heavens. _Run, Aerith. Please. _Her holy stance is magical as a glowing aura surrounds her body and portrays a fantastic mirage of brilliant light. My body draws closer and I can feel its sacred warmth embracing me. Breathtaking.

My sword is stiff and rigid. I can't pull away and save her from myself. He's playing with me, manipulating my body and toying with my soul. _Bastard! _My arms won't tremble at my heaving pulls. They remain certain, unmoving, and gleefully awaiting its strike. I can't close my eyes. I can't turn away. This morbid scene will be flashed right before me. My eyes don't blink. His eyes won't blink. _I'm weak._

I can feel my sword penetrating her skin. I feel the blade tearing into her flesh, ripping and mutilating her delicate features. The push is not smooth, and so my arms wrench it further until it protrudes from the other side of her stomach. Her body writhes in pain, shaking violently in agony. An overflow of blood pours from her body and covers my fingertips. My eyes widen and my lips curl into an ecstatic grin. I exult in the crimson liquid laced across my fingers, slowly draping into my palm. He loves this glory. He delights in her torture, in _my _torture.

Her lifeless carcass falls heavily, and her limp neck pounds forward against her chest. In a slow pull, I slide my sword out of her body, relishing the feel of her dead flesh clinging to my blade. With a quick tug and forceful thrust, I release my sword and her corpse collapses onto the floor.

I need to get out. _Let me go! What do you want? Let me go! _I'm screaming. My body's thrashing. I'm pounding into my mattress, tearing at my sheets. I'm uncontrollable, and I can feel myself suddenly weeping. The tears trickle across my face and fall onto my pillow. _Damn it. _I'm breathing heavily now and I begin to calm down. I rub my eyes, drop my head onto my pillow, and wrap myself in the shards of my torn blanket. I'm exhausted and I feel myself growing faint, but I can't just lay here. I need to move. I need to know that I am me. I open my eyes and stare blankly into the darkness.

_4:00 am. _I struggle and groan quietly as I force myself into a sitting position. Grogginess fogs my head, and I can feel myself wavering like a drunkard with little control. I rub my eyes gently and run my fingers through my hair. My shoulders are hunched and my back is slouching. I reach for the phone and dial her number. After several rings, I hear a gentle, "Hello?" and her serene voice quickly relaxes my body.

"I need you." I hear a subtle reluctance and a tired moan. "Please."

With a gentle reply of acceptance, the phone clicks and I lay back down to rest. I wish I didn't need her like this. I'm supposed to be stronger. I'm supposed to be the one protecting her. I need to… it's harder to breathe. It's harder to see. I need to…

_I'm sorry, Tifa. I'm sorry to be your burden._

_------------------------------------_

_------------------------------------------------------------------ _

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and all its characters belong to Square-Enix (not an online user named .mangoseed, _obviously_).


	2. Wine Colored Eyes

**Cruel Desires**

**Chapter 2: Wine-Colored Eyes**

I shuffle in bed, rubbing my eyes and getting rid of the yellow crust that formed over my eyelids. I lay there for a moment washed away in grogginess and darkness. I'm tired and weak; there's an emptiness tying around my insides and I can't seem to fill it or get it off of me. It's lasted for almost a week now, and every morning, it seems to tighten. I push myself forward and squint around the room. There's a wet rag on the ground. _There was… I can't remember. _My memory's jaded, almost whimsical as though nothing I know is tangible and everything I feel is by someone else's touch. _Last night was a dream, but… but Tifa? You were the reality. _

Running my fingers through my hair, scratching my head, _I need this to stop. But she… _Last night, I remembered her hands against my forehead. Those dark locks traced against her face. And in the darkness before twilight, those wine-colored eyes were still bright as she smiled.

My hands are trembling, but my heart beats at an even pace. Nothing balances out any more. What makes sense doesn't make sense and what doesn't does. I need a drink. I need to thank Tifa. I need to…

I walk to the bathroom, let the shower run, and glance into the mirror. There's a memento on my chest. A red scar. This black scar. Of blood and hate. Of the blade that…

My arms are raised above my right shoulder. My fingers tighten around the black sheath that covers the hilt of my sword. I see her eyes, red and frightened like a frozen deer. And I revel in it. The red fear in her eyes looks like burgundy in a pristine wineglass. And as my blade swiftly slashes down, the red of her blood splatters across my face, and I can taste the wine when I lick my lips. I can taste her fear. I can taste the heavy flavor of _her_.

My head drops and I yell in madness. I pound my fist against the countertop. These memories keep flushing back into my mind, but not my memories, _his_. Nibelheim. Those burned houses, the screeching families, his mad laughter, and the way his sword struck against her in the reactor. I'm punching and pounding and trying desperately to break something, to feel something, to know that it's mine. This isn't me. This isn't mine. I need to know what's real again, to know that I'm real. The steam fogs the mirror, and I can't see the scar anymore, only the red veins in my eyes. My eyes. _That's right. My eyes._

I step into the shower and breathe. _Breathe, Cloud. Breathe. Never forget to breathe. _The running water washes away the dirt on my fingertips, my blood-stained palms, my soiled face. But I'm still not clean. My hair, flattened by the water, feels as though it's scratching with sharp-edged nails against my shoulders. I taste an acrid sourness in my mouth like the long-decayed flavor of spoiled milk. This needs to stop. This constant flurry of sickles that stab at every crevice of my being. This needs to stop. I need to…

I step out of the shower, dry my hair, and wrap the towel around my waist. I feel like hell and it's reflected in the dirty blonde scruff that's gathered over my face. When I begin to shave, the thin knives graze against my chin, shredding and rasping away. It feels too sharp, too heavy, too rough. Nothing feels right. Even the humidity in the air feels heavier than usual. And in a smooth swipe, the blade grinds deeply, tearing a deep gash into my cheek. The blood pours quickly and skulks along my chin onto my chest. I pause and drop the razor into the sink as I watch the crimson droplets, dip, curl, and eventually pinch off and descend off the curve of my face. Each is a deep red, speckled by a black shadow in its corner. I wait until it burns, until I can feel it, until I can feel its realness. And when I finally need to bite back and withdraw my face, I'm finally satisfied.

_------------------------------------_

"Morning, sleepyhead."

She's beautiful. Still smiling. Still happy to see me after everything I've thrown onto her. I'm a failure at protecting her, at keeping my promises. I told her I'd join SOLDIER and protect her, and all I did was get her a black scar. It's even bigger than mine, but she knows how to hide it better than I can. I told her I'd save her whenever she's in a bind. But how can I protect her when she's stronger than I am? I can't be her hero when I'm like this. I'm the one always in the bind, and she's the one always saving me.

"You all right?" She's still so kind to me, but I know she's tired. There are subtle hollow impressions under her eyes, and her hair is slightly stiff and glistens from the oil in her hair. Her movements are sloppier; her skin is paler. My weaknesses have taken a toll on her, and she's still more concerned about me.

"I-"

"Don't worry about it, Cloud. It's nothing."

"But I-"

"What do you want to drink?"

I sigh, exasperated. I'm taking advantage of what I shouldn't even have. I promised to be her hero, to be her soldier. When I stood upon that well and glared into the night sky, I promised that I would be the one to rescue her. I'm supposed to be stronger than this, stronger than this pathetic... Her smile dawns on me and for a moment, that kid with the half-cocked smile comes alive again. "The usual, I guess."

Tifa pours a glass of whiskey and slides it across the bar to me. I don't take it, just leave it there looking into the yellowy liquid and my reflection that's aged, worn, and rippled. That amber, broken image is who I am. Blemished with brown, wasted away and rotting in the craven darkness like mildew. I must've gazed into it longer than I expected because she came over to me with a clean rag and placed it against my cheek.

"What happened to you?"

"Shaving."

"Heh, you're a mess these days."

We're both silent, and she tenderly dabs my cheek with the towel. Her wine-colored eyes look into mine, and I want to kiss the tired lines under her eyes. I want to run my fingers through the oils of her hair. I want…

"You don't have to do this, Tifa. It's not bleeding anymore." But I don't want her to let go. Her warmth close beside me is soothing, and the cool rag helps me feel more refreshed than I have all morning. I'm being strangled without her, and she gives me a chance to breathe. I want her to stay close to me. I want her to tell me that she won't go anywhere. I want her to know that I would give everything to be the one protecting her.

She draws away from me and asks me to smile. And when I curl my lips for her, the cut on my cheek breaks and she reapplies the towel to my face."See. I do have to do this." She chuckles and lifts my hand to keep the towel in place. "Can you hold this for me? I have to go grab something from the back."

I nod and wait for her. I feel rejuvenated and the energy is stirring inside me again. I reach for my drink. _Tifa. She makes me feel… _and the glass suddenly shatters in my hand. I didn't squeeze hard. I didn't slam it against anything. Or... I must've... I've lost so much feeling, so much control. I don't know what's too much. I don't know what's not enough. But I can feel this. I can feel the tiny, little blades crackling in my hand. I can feel them folding into the creases of my palm. I'm not bleeding much, but the shards of glass are messily scattered all over me and on the floor. I need to clean this up. I need to…

"Cloud?" She rushes over and carefully takes the glass out of my hand. Holding my wrist, she guides me to the sink and lets the water run over my hands. I feel more alive again, as though I can actually say something comprehensible, as though I can actually be someone comprehensible. This feeling, this blood, _my_ blood - it makes sense. They're the red tributaries of my existence - evidence that I am here. Tifa makes sense - that will always be true. I know who I am when I'm in her warmth. I know that I am when I bleed.

After rinsing my hands, she walks me over to another table, and looks at me curiously. She's worried. She's afraid. "What happened, Cloud?"

"Thank you."

"What?"

"I mean, I'm sorry for everything."

"What are you talking about?"

I pause and see small red droplets secreting from my hand. "Whenever I'm safe, there's..." The red droplets are sprouting out of my palm like little red ants, nibbling at my hand. Nibbling, nibbling, nibbling. "And I can't..." I can feel the cheshire grin that's snaked on my face. The red ants are scurrying so fast! "And I can't... I can't..." _I need to focus. _ "But when I bleed, it's clear again." I'm smiling as I tell her. "I can see. I can feel. I can… I need to…" My head drops, and I'm silent again.

"Cloud?" She lifts my chin with her forefinger, and I can see those eyes again, those lovely, wine-colored eyes. "Are you doing this to yourself?"

"No... Yes. I mean…"

"Are you _intentionally _doing this to yourself?"

"I don't... I don't think so."

She looks at me. Her eyes unshifting; her wine never ripples.

"I'm losing myself, Tifa. I can't concentrate on anything. I want… I need… to feel relief... And…"

"Shh…" She holds me, and the warmth of her body and the scent of her skin drifts into me, and I feel calm. Even after all those battles and all the hardening and all the protecting, her touch is still tender laced by the silkiness of a woman - a woman that stops the rippling, that ends the flow of crimson, that hides my strife in her warmth and lets me feel relief. I sigh. I breathe. I close my eyes.

And he's laughing in my ears.

_No. You won't have me._

_------------------------------------_

_------------------------------------------------------------------ _

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and all its characters belong to Square-Enix (not an online user named .mangoseed, _obviously_).


	3. Awake

**Cruel Desires**

**Chapter 3: Awake**

I wonder… what must it be like to live her life? To have to hold me when I'm shivering? To have to prick my fingertips so that I can see my own blood? To have to tell me that he's not there?

Difficult, probably. Tiring.

It's strange to think that in order to save me, she needs to hurt me. When I have his dreams or remember his thoughts, the only way to awaken is to feel my own blood. I want to press my palms onto shattered glass or walk barefoot over a bed of nails. But she's always there to stifle my urges and then scratches me lightly with her metal knuckle. I'm never entirely cleared; the blood will often shape itself into a creature that draws me in and frames my imagination to envision it as a winding rattlesnake or a sea of scurrying red ants. But those crimson creatures that invade my body and make me smile a maniacal smile will always be more welcomed than the bloodshed that he enjoys.

I'm glad she's here. To help me bear my burden – _our_ burden. She told me to stop saying "my" and "mine" – like it's the reason why everything is so tough. She told me to start saying "ours" so that I can feel less alone. I don't think I really have to anymore though, because after all she's done for me, I've finally been able to realize that I never really was.

It's been about three months since I've actually been able to have a decently normal life – if you can call living anywhere in Midgar normal. I've never really done anything for her to show my gratitude. From time to time, I'll bring flowers to the bar. Marlene reminded me that Tifa's wanted to fill the room with flowers for a long time; so every now and then, I'll bring back a burgundy, rose, or a midnight flame. They're always a deep, velvety red – the same color I dream of before I fall asleep.

I've fallen for her, and the only one who I can talk to it about is that seven-year-old girl. She sees the way I look at Tifa – the clumsy way my eyes shift up and down, up and down when I'm close to her – too afraid to stare, but too charged with longing to look away. She sees the way my eyes will drift to the flowers when I'm sitting at the bar, and how my brows soften when I imagine a visage of Tifa's eyes in their dark petals. She sees the way I fumble whenever I bring a flower to an empty room; it'll be me and Marlene sitting at a table, but she'll giggle and watch as I keep getting up to pick the flower up from its spot and move it somewhere else, constantly thinking of a noticeable, but not-too-noticeable spot for Tifa to find it. She laughs at me, mocking how I can only utter a stupid, "uh-huh" or "whatever" when I really just want to take Tifa in my arms and spin her around. Marlene's amused by my awkwardness of the whole situation and greets me every day with a questioning, "So did you tell her you love her yet?"

I couldn't. I'd love to, but…

"Give her a materia. You can take my Lightning – it's a pretty blue-green color and it looks like turquoise. You don't have to worry about it, either. I don't mind giving it to you 'cause I have like forty of them. They're easy to find. I won't give you my Revive, though, even though that one looks like a pearl. They're rare, and I don't wanna hafta wait in a forest for some passerby to steal it from. Most of 'em don't even have it, anyway." _No, Yuffie. That's okay._

"I can get you a great discount at a casino. You guys can enjoy the slots or a night of poker and blackjack. It's fun. Free drinks, too." _I don't want to take her out to get drunk and gamble, Cait._

"Then at least use the discount for a nice hotel room." _We're not animals, Red. Only you are. _"To talk! I meant to talk!"

"If it's expected that I make an offer as well, then you can always use my coffin. Just let me know when. I can change the interior colors of it for you, too. Black. Royal blue. Personally, I prefer Scarlet." _... "_Why so silent? If I was able to stay in it for several decades, I can assure you that it's quite comfortable."_ You're sick._

"Re-live that night under the _Highwind_. I'll let you borrow it." _What? How do you know about that? _"I never left the ship."_ Damn it, Cid. _"Fuck you, Cloud. It wasn't just me. We were all watching, remember?"

Everyone knows, unfortunately. I never _wanted _to tell them about it, but I guess when the only person you're revealing your secrets to is a second grader, it can't be that hard to figure out. Barret's the only one that hasn't said anything to me about it. He'll call me a fag for bringing in flowers all the time, and then glare at me as though he's trying to stop himself from lifting up his gun-arm and putting a bullet through my head – or maybe two, three, four, or seventy-four. He was, after all, the one by Tifa's side in the early AVALANCHE days, so it's not a surprise that he built up the whole "protective father" front.

I just…

"Yeah, Cid. Can I borrow the _Highwind_?"

"Hell yeah, man! That's my boy! You go and fu-"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks."

_------------------------------------_

"Wow. It's been so long," Tifa exclaims as she paces back and forth on the bridge of the ship, occasionally looking out the windows, but mostly in awe that she's back on the _Highwind_. "I'm amazed that everything looks exactly the same." She pauses and raises an eyebrow when she notices a greenish-black sludge excreting out of a corner of the ceiling that split into several distasteful channels and began to meander its way down the wall. "Except Cid's lack of… cleaning."

"Heh, you know him." I talk while pushing various buttons and trying to figure out what control does what. It's been ages since I even looked at any of these switches, and I was never much of a pilot when we practically lived here anyway. "He's probably been too busy installing some kind of rocket engine to make this plane go faaaaaaaasterrrrr."

And we're off. Tifa stumbles in place and falls back, rolling across the bridge and taking me down with her. The _Highwind_ burst into the air, riding hard at an almost 90 degree angle. I don't want to push her off; her weight upon me feels so warm. I can smell her hair, the scent of fresh winds and newly-picked flowers fills my senses. Her arms are on opposite sides of my shoulders, and she's looking to the side with a bashful chuckle. I can study her profile, and I notice the blush rising in her cheeks. She's breathtaking in this position. I want to wrap my arms around her and pull her under me.

"Cloud!"

The sound of her calling out my name is arousing in and of itself.

"Cloud!"

She's saying it louder, and I feel a jolt of excitement running through my limbs.

"Cloud! The ship's going to explode! We're getting too close to the atmosphere!"

"What? Oh, geez…" I pull myself up and run over to the controls. _Crap. Crap. What am I supposed to do? _I start pushing random buttons, hitting one or two. _Not working. _Hitting three or four. _Still not working. _All of them at once! Flashes of red, green, and yellow are wildly flickering before my eyes like a flurry of lightning bugs going through seizures. Red. _Oh geez, that's bad. _Green. _Okay. We're all set. _Yellow. _Wait! Why is it yellow? I don't even know what yellow means! _Orange._ Orange__? Is that red or yellow? It's not supposed to be orange! _I push a few more buttons until finally, they're all green and I can breathe again. _Oh, thank god. _And then they all shut off. Suddenly there's no color at all, and I can hear the engine come to a heartrending halt.

"Tifa… I think I might… need your help."

"Oh gosh, Cloud." For some reason, she's completely calm. We're only falling at an accelerating speed from a height that I'm not liking very much at the moment. She saunters over, flips her hair, and with a – may I dare say _cocky_– grin, hits a few buttons. She steadies her eyes out the window and gracefully curves the ship back into a normal position and lowers the aircraft several hundred feet so that that the air pressure doesn't cause our ears to feel like they're about to fall off. "There we go."

I stare at her in disbelief and awe, and quietly whisper, "Can you umm… show me how to do that?"

She laughs, and even in my embarrassment, I still appreciate the sound of her voice that reminds me of the delicate chiming of bells.

"I don't think you really need to know how to fix the ship when it's about to crash. Hopefully, we won't have to deal with that again," she chuckles some more, and I scratch my head uncomfortably. "But come here."

I walk over to her, and she's pointing at this thing that looks like half a steering wheel. "Use this to direct the ship. Left shifts left; right shifts right. Not so hard, right?" I nod and continue to listen. "You just have to be careful because when you turn it, it doesn't just change the direction, but it turns the whole ship on its side so you have to try to keep the ship even. Otherwise we're going to be up against the wall the whole time." Her cheeks turn a slight hue of red as she notices the unintentional innuendo of her words. I pretend I don't notice so that she can continue teaching me without having to feel uncomfortable. "And then if you want the ship to go higher, just pull the wheel back towards you and the whole ship will angle upwards. If you want to dip it downwards, just push it in a little bit. Got it?" She turns to look up at me and the rose in her cheeks still hasn't faded. Her face is so close to mine, and it takes the collected efforts of every fiber in my body to stop myself from leaning down to kiss her.

"Yeah. I think I do."

"Great. I'll let you take control now."

She walks away from me, and I notice the unexpected feeling of barrenness without her beside me. She pulls herself onto a metal railing, sits down, and begins ever-so-slightly swaying her ankles from side-to-side.

"Where are we going, by the way?"

"It's uhh…" _Damn it. Where is that grassy hill? We just had to pick a place in the middle of nowhere to land. How am I supposed to find it now? I can't exactly relive that night if I don't even know where it happened. _"It's a uhh… a secret."

"Cloud, if you don't actually know where we're going. It's okay. You can admit that to me."

"I just…" I look at her, and she's smiling at me with a very cute grin. "Is there any place in particular that you want to go?"

She doesn't respond immediately, and I notice her playing with her hands, flicking her right thumb over the tips of each of the fingers on her left hand. She turns in place, shifting her weight to the side as though she suddenly can't find a comfortable way to position her seating. Her fingers intertwine, unwind, and eventually rest underneath the railing on opposite sides of her lap. Her eyes aren't meeting mine; her bangs hang tenderly over her face. I can see her biting the corner of her bottom lip, and the innocence of her shy disposition leaves a playful smirk planted on my lips.

"Do you think we could go to Nibelheim? I want to see my old house, and maybe even that well?"

I nod slightly and reply, "Of course." _Of course, beautiful. _

_------------------------------------_

And she's running through the streets, giggling like a young girl, and pulling me by the hand. It's somewhat surreal to be here again. The streets are empty for some reason; I don't know where all those people went. It's like the Nibelheim we knew, not that strange illusion from before.

"Look, Cloud! It's the old truck! The only one in town."

"The only one in town." We say the last sentence in unison, and I'm smiling broadly in recognition of just how long she's been a part of my life.

"Yeah!"

We stop for a moment and look at the rust that's formed over the edges of the doors, the hood with dents the size of baseballs and watermelons, and the flattened tires with their misshaped rims. I remembered the way I'd run on top of that truck when I was young. In the middle of the night, when I thought no one was looking, I used to practice for SOLDIER and jump onto it pretending that it was a speeding vehicle. I'd have my "sword" in hand, which was really just an old broom I broke in half, and pointed it at the window ready to strike at the maniacal, old geezer that endangered our town with his reckless driving. And right when I was about to spear that bastard through the heart, right through the window and all, old Mr. Moyle (the one whom I usually envisioned as the maniacal, old geezer) would come out of his house in a tantrum and yelling at me to get off his truck. Then my mom would overhear, yell at me to come inside, spank me, and force me to stay in my room for a week.

Tifa must have noticed my dream-like reminiscence because she looked at me with a teasing smirk. "What are you thinking about, Cloud?"

I let out a brief chuckle and lift my hand to point at the depressions on the hood of the truck. "See all those dents there?"

She mumbles a quiet, "Mm-hmm," nodding and following my finger with her eyes.

"I made all those whenever I wanted to bother Mr. Moyle. Mom would spank me so hard those nights."

She laughs heartily, and the sight of her amusement lights an amorous ember inside me.

"You were quite the rascal, huh Cloud?"

My eyes scamper to hold hers in a long gaze. I want so badly to kiss her right now, right here. We're in our hometown, the place where my desire for her first came alive. It's never gone away since then. Perhaps it was, at one time, weakened through the travails of time and distance, but right here, right now, it's burning more fervently and vividly than ever.

"Yeah…"

She smiles at me, holds my hand, and says, "Come on! Let's go to the well."

I nod and follow alongside her. Her hand feels small but strong in mine. I want to protect these hands, to love them and kiss them. Then again, she could easily take these hands and throw me backwards into a tree with them, and so I shy away and stop myself from intertwining my fingers in hers. But even through this, this inability to thread my fingers through hers and make them one, I feel my heart pouring into her, and I think… I think she knows how much I truly care about her.

I remain in my silent daze long enough that when I finally look up, we're already standing in front of the well. There it is - that oddly _bleak_ water hole. After several years and growing another seven inches taller since I was last here, the well, unfortunately, lost a great deal of its grandeur. I don't remember it being so… dull. It used to shimmer in the night's starry radiance, and I would feel tingles from seeing the glossy reflection of white light against the puddles of water along its sides. But now…

Tifa's eyes are sparkling as she looks onto the scene. It seems as though all the memories of her childhood are flushing back into her mind, back when sweet naivety was all that she knew. I wonder what it is that she's thinking about, but it doesn't take long for me to realize that the well is shimmering again. It's Tifa that makes it all seem grand.

"I can't believe we're here, Cloud."

_I can't believe I'm here with you. _"Yeah. Me neither."

"Come on. Let's go sit on top of it again." She guides me to the edge of the well. She lets go of my hand, and for a moment, I feel stripped. We each climb on top of the well; I plop myself down while she's standing tall and gleaming into the moonlight. We're quiet for what seems like ages, but it's nothing I mind. She's enchanting.

"Hey Cloud?"

I hear her, but I'm in a breathless trance, and I can't respond.

"Cloud?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember what you once told me?" She walks over to me slowly; her motions are graceful, and I watch her long legs draw closer to me. There's a quick flinch in my loins before I force it to whisk away. "That day in the Lifestream?"

"What about it?"

"Do you remember what you said about making your decision to be a SOLDIER?"

I shake my head and secretly chuckle to myself, remembering how that was a day I've intentionally _not _thought about. All the chaos and fear – the realization that I wasn't who I thought I was, that I was envisioning my existence through another man. It was the day that I was finally honest with myself. It was when Tifa guided me through the Lifestream and pieced back together the remnants of my past, showing me a true painting of that reality.

She sits down beside me and takes my hand in hers. "You don't remember anything at all?" She's smiling coyly, luring me in with the corners of her lips.

I shake my head again.

"You told me that you wanted to be noticed."

_Oh, yeah..._

"Noticed by…"

"Noticed by you…"

She draws her hands away, retires to her own face and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. I can see her graceful neck and the sharp features of her defined collar bone.

"I think about it sometimes… it makes me laugh."

_Huh?_ I'm tempted to react defensively and ask her if she'd rather that I never have told her any of that at all. But I remain stoic and ask, "Why? Was it that funny?"

"No, no. It wasn't funny at all. It was very sweet."

_Sweet? Like a child that's constantly crying for attention?_

"I just laugh because of where we are now. Because… now I feel like I'm the one trying to get you to notice me."

I can feel my lips part and my jaw drops slightly. I turn to face her, and she's trembling slightly. Crying, almost.

"Tifa…"

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm acting like this. Everything is so beautiful. I'm ruining everything. I'm so sorry, Cloud. I didn't mean to make this uncomfortab-"

She stops when I push back her hair and kiss her softly on the edge of her arm._ I notice everything about you, Tifa._ My lips follow the outline of her shoulder. _I notice how your shoulders rise in nervousness when I look at you for too long. _They graze gently against her neck. H_ow when you blush, the redness in your cheeks continues along and reddens the back of your neck_. Breathing heat into her ear. _How your ears perk when you're listening. _Nuzzling into her hair. _How the scent of your hair can tell me exactly what you did that day. And today, you took me by the hand and flew through the winds with me._ And finally stopping on the teardrop trail on her face. _And how those beautiful tears can make everything glitter_.

"I do notice you, Tifa."

_------------------------------------_

"You've never been up here before?"

"No… I've only seen it through the window."

I take a step towards her bed, until realizing that I don't want her to assume that I have any expectations. Instead, I amble on over to the bench by her piano, pull the seat out, and sit down.

She's walking around the perimeter of her room, studying the details of the life that she's had to move on from. She traces her fingers over her furniture; her eyes scale the length of her vanity and the reddish-brown desk beside it, examining the veins of the wood and gracefully caressing the leather binding of the three large encyclopedias. She steps along the border of her carpet, following the thick, burgundy rectangle, careful to not stop outside of its stroke and never touching the white on either side. She stops at the window for a moment to look at the chestnut windowsills and the cracked vase filled with withered, orange tulips. She continues on to her bed and takes her hand to stroke the bed sheets, carefully following the intricate designs of vines and leaves against the faded white, as though she's remembering what it's like to have slept in the comfort and security of her own cotton quilt. Eventually, she makes her way back to her dressing cabinet and opens the door to reveal a lovely teal-colored dress that's slightly wrinkled, but has that glittering shine I remember from before. Even though she's only standing beside it, I can see her youth shining through her. Her eyes glance at mine, and we share a brief smile before I see them dart across the pictures on her wall – photographs of her father, of her mother, of…

She steps towards me, reaches over my shoulder to grab a photograph, and then hurriedly throws it away. I don't understand what was so upsetting, but she turns her face from the trash can and looks at me with a smile – the protecting smile that's meant to keep me from something.

"Tifa? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Cloud. Nothing." She's smiling still, and her eyes are glossy.

I walk over to her and look into the trash can.

She softly pushes me away, "Cloud, please don't…"

"Tifa, what could possibly…?" I chuckle and tease while looking at a picture of a fifteen-year-old girl wearing a ridiculous cowgirl outfit standing beside two others.

She's still pushing me away, "Cloud, really. I don't want you to see it."

I can hear her, but I just keep leaning towards it.

"Cloud, stop it." She's pushing harder.

My body continues to move forward, leaning in closer and closer. My eyes scramble to study the details. To look at her._ No…_ I'm looking for something. Something. Something. _Where is it?_

She pushes me harder, and I grip her shoulders tightly and push her to the side. _Finally_. I reach in and lift the picture…

"Cloud, no!"

And those chilling blue eyes grasp onto mine like sharp, icy tendons.

"Cloud!"

I put my arms around her and pull her into my embrace.

"Cloud, oh I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have shown it to you. I didn't want you to…"

"It's okay, Tifa. It's okay. Shh…" I rub my cheek into her long, black hair and push away the bangs from her face. I can feel her warm tears dampening my shirt, and I pull my chest away and gently lift her chin. She won't look up at me and let her eyes meet mine, and so I lean in to kiss her on the lips. A soft kiss that lasts for only a second. Another. And then another. _Look at me, Tifa_. Once more, and she curls a soft smile. She's still not looking at me, but I kiss her again – this time a lasting kiss, and I wait for her, hoping to let me deepen it. When she parts her lips and lets me in, I'm smiling. Grinning. Maniacally grinning. It's curdling my blood as my passion and desires push her onto the bed.

And she opens her eyes and stares at me, horrified. I rub my pelvis against hers. _What? _My blood is boiling with passion, desire, fury, and fear. _What is this? _Her screams are muffled in my mouth as my hands explore her entire body. _No! No, no, no! _They rub her silken back enjoying the tight curling of her spine. _Sephiroth, no!_ They squeeze roughly over her breasts and I can taste her gasping and crying in my mouth. _Get off of her! _They descend down against her tight stomach as her muscles stress and tighten harder and harder at my touch. _Tifa… my god, Tifa. Get away! You have to get away! _And they flick over – _please close them, Tifa. _Inside – _no_. And out –_ no! _Between her legs. _You bastard! _I'm gyrating my hips against hers, thrusting, feeling, and enjoying every inch of her.

And I'm crying. _I'm so sorry, Tifa. _And crying and kicking and screaming and rubbing and touching and thrusting and invading. _No!_

My tongue is in her mouth, capturing hers in its length and running across its underside sensually. I want to rip it out and drown my mouth with poison. _Get off! _My hands rise and crawl under her shirt, pressing firmly with my palm as though I'm trying to take all of her and make it mine. I want to rip off my hands and throw it in a sea of acid to get them off of her. To get him off of her. To stop his hands from ever touching her again. _Get off! You bastard! Get off! _

Why is this happening? _Why, god damn it! Why?_ Three months of peace, _and then you give me this!_ This! _Get off of her!_

And I can hear him laughing. _Sephiroth! I'll kill you! _Laughing and pounding my body against hers. Laughing. Laughing and pounding my body against hers. He wants her. He's always wanted her. And I can feel my hardness. I can feel _his _hardness. My hardness is between my thighs. His hardness is using me like his toy. It's painful up against her. _Damn it! _And I'm trying so hard to pull myself off of her. To stop thrusting. To stop thrusting. _Get off! Get off! _And I can feel the wetness from her, from her lips, from her tears. It's wet and hard. _No! _And she's screaming. _No! _And she's crying. _No! _He's feeding on the chaos. And I'm feeding on the chaos. Feeding on her neck. On her nipples. On her wetness. _Tifa…_ On her wetness mixed with my hardness._ No!_ It tastes delicious and revolting. _Tifa!_ It tastes sour and sweet. _Stop! _It tastes like red wine._ Stop it! She's not yours! Stop it!_

Exhilaration is ringing in my ears. Like a blast of whirling swords, screaming soldiers, and bleeding men. He's wild in fervor, and I'm trying desperately to put a stop to his ecstasy. I want to shed off my skin. I want to hang myself along a wire. To keep him away from her. To get him off of me. So he can feel the pain and finally die and go to hell. _Go to hell!_ _Die, damn you! Die! _But her cries screech like high-pitched nails. And I want take those nails and dig them into my own skin. Into his skin. _Damn it, Sephiroth!_

He's waited for this. _Bastard! _That bastard has been waiting for this! He gave me the chance to finally get close to what I wanted most, to whom I wanted most. All so he could take it away. So he could take her away from me right before my eyes and laugh as I scream in horror and fury. _Sephiroth!_

I'm nibbling on her bottom lip. _Stop! _She's screaming and moaning all at once. _Please, Tifa. _I'm trying to look away. I'm trying desperately to shut my eyes. Desperately to close them. To shut him out. To close him out. _Get off of me! _But he has me staring. _Tifa… Tifa… _I want to tell her that it isn't me. I want to tell her that it's this monster latching my body onto hers._ Get off of me! _But he's keeping my eyes wide open. _Get off of her! _And he's making me watch as my hands and tongue play with her body. _Get off of her! _And as I stare into her eyes, scrambling to save her - to save her from this monster, this monster that's on me, this monster that I am - _Sephiroth!_ - I realize that there's no fear in her eyes, but a look of understanding. _Tifa…_She knows it's not me. She knows I'm powerless. She knows what to do. And as my head descends lower… _Make me bleed._

And she screams a powerful cry and throws me off of her. Her shirt is ripped and draped over her shoulders. Her hair is a wild array of a woman fierce and prepared. She stands in front of me with raised fists – a stance I've stood beside countless times in the past but never against. Her eyes are still wavering, though, unsure of whether or not she's doing what's right.

_Don't hesitate, Tifa!_

And I push her against the wall and take my tongue and drag it over her chest and neck. I can taste the saltiness of her sweat and I try to bite down and taste the bitterness of my blood.

She grunts loudly, and with her back against the wall, uses both legs to push me away. I stumble backwards and she takes this opportunity to punch me in the cheek and quickly counters with a roundhouse kick that swipes across my face. The pain is quick and uneven, peaking at the crest of my forehead. He hates it. I love it. My face crashes into her vanity, shattering the glass in my face. I grab my cheek. Red. _Oh, thank god. _Red. My forehead is bleeding and the crimson is splattered all over her dresser. _Oh, thank god. _My heart is racing as I collapse to my knees, and I hear her cry out my name. She stops my fall and holds my weight against her to keep me up.

"Cloud?"

"Tifa…" I smile and her tear-stained cheeks are smiling back at me. She jumps into me and wraps her arms around my neck. Slowly, I pull my arms around her waist, close my eyes, and breathe. "I'm so sorry."

"It's…" Her body tenses, and I don't know why. It's as though something is eating her from inside because her entire body is tightening and she's choking on her own tongue and breathing in hoarse gulps. When I open my eyes, I look down and see her blood on my fingers. _No!_ Without realizing it, he took my hand and filled my palm with broken glass and pressed it into her, digging the jagged edges into her stomach. _No! _She pulls away from me with terror streaked across her face. _You bastard! _She jumps and knees my jaw.

I can feel the pain she's hurling upon me. I'm trying to push myself away. To turn away from her. To turn away from this madness. To turn away from this monster. To turn away from her blood and drown myself in my own. But he's still – _Bastard! – _fighting to control me and forcing me to succumb to his movements. To his _goddamn movements!_

She grunts and kicks my left knee. _That's it! _I can hear it break and I scream out in pain. My body falls to the side, but in another flash, I'm snarling at her and drawing closer upon her in a predacious prowl. _Sephiroth! Stop it! _There's a hunger in my lips – a hunger to taste every inch of her. _You won't have her! _Her lips, her skin, her blood. _No! _There's a burning crack in my knee every time I step. _Stay down, damn you!_ I'm screaming in pain, but each time I scream, it sounds more and more like an angry growl. I want to take my blade and make the pain strike deeper. I want the blade inside me, inside him. I don't care about this. I don't care about these hands, these arms, these legs. I want them _gone!_ It burns! Everything burns. The blood on my forehead is dripping into my eyes. I can't see. I can't see. He can't see. My broken knee is shattering under me. I can't walk. _Don't move, damn it!_

"Cloud!" She's calling out my name and there's fear in her voice.

_Be brave, Tifa. I need you to be brave. _

When I throw myself on her again - _Sephiroth! - _she hits me with a series of punches and I see the tears welling in her eyes.

_Keep going, Tifa._

She puts her legs upon my chest and kicks my head with a spinning somersault. _That's it! You've almost got him. _She lowers to the ground and sweeps my legs in a way that feels like the power of fierce undulations take me in a drowning wave. I'm on the ground and I know my brow's been cracked. I can taste the blood in my mouth and I can't breathe from a rib that feels as though it's piercing my lung. _Get off of me!_ She lifts me in her arms - I can feel her body shaking and the sounds of her sniffling are echoing in my ears. _Tifa, don't stop. _And then body slams me and I feel my body set ablaze. _Burn, you bastard! Burn! _I'm screaming. He's screaming as the pain scorches my limbs and my chest. I'm screaming as my body turns aflame. She gets up quickly and before she can raise her fist for her next blow, she stammers and falls to her knees crying.

I'm lying on the ground, and I can feel my blood thrashing on my face. I'm tired and worn. I don't know if he's still there. But the blood. My blood. It beats through my body and its fast pulsations feel as though they're rupturing through my veins. My body is smashed and burnt, and when I look at my own hands, I see my fingertips charred black. Her cries are loud. I can barely see – the blood in my eyes and the bruises and bumps on my beaten face are blinding. I open my lips to talk, and I can feel my skin breaking from the slight movement of my mouth. He's stirring still.

"Finish it, Tifa."

"No, Cloud! I can't!" She's crying hysterically, and I lie there like a bloody rag. _Tifa, be brave._

And my body ascends. My bones are shattering. _Stay down, damn it! _Blood is swept across my face, across my arms, across my black heart. Across his black heart. I want to slash across it and rip it out and beat it until it stops beating. I lunge towards her._ Finish it, Tifa. Please finish it! Just do it!_

And through my squinted eyes, I see her with a raised fist, her eyes squeezed shut as tears flow out. _Yes, Tifa. _She's summoning a reign of nuclear power. _Finish it. _And as my body hurls, she screams out and rushes past me with a deafening punch. _Yes, your Final Heaven. This will be our Final Heaven. _

It takes a second before I feel the explosion rise inside me – a miraculous burst of sparks and flames that makes all things clear – _everything is so clear – _and black...

_------------------------------------_

I wake on her floor. The room is a mess with broken glass scattered everywhere. The mirror of her vanity is still cracked, and I see my blood dripping off its edges. The reddish brown wood of her desk is soaked in crimson, and the pages of her books are strewn around in shreds. The bed sheets are in disarray, and the once-green vines are blotched with a dry red. Her dresser is torn apart and the teal-colored dress is covered in sprays of black and red with the bottom edges burnt off. The carpet that was once bordered in burgundy is now filled from the center to the outside with the same color. The ivory keys of her piano are burnt to dark, smoky gray. The curtains are torn. And there she is… sitting with her knees pulled into her chest. Her arms are clinging tightly around her stomach, the withered tulips are hanging over her face, and her body is shaking with tears.

I don't move. I don't make a noise. I sit still in my position and cry, and for the first time, I can finally feel my own tears.

_------------------------------------_

_------------------------------------------------------------------_

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII and all its characters belong to Square-Enix (not an online user named .mangoseed, _obviously_).

Author's Note: A great thank you to my readers and reviewers. And also, please don't be upset with me for the rather graphic ideas in my fic. I love Tifa and would never wish this upon her or anyone.


End file.
